


A Dragon's Guilt

by Elysia45



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Ancient Elves (Dragon Age), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arlathan (Dragon Age), Fane is a sad dragon, Headcanon, Healthy Relationships, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Other, Past Lives, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad, Sad Lavellan, Solas is soft, Solas loves him, Solavellan Hell, Supportive Solas, theories about dragons, when he's not angry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29278500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysia45/pseuds/Elysia45
Summary: “Ah, Inquisitor. Are you running from something? No? Your rushed gait tells me that you are. Then again, you are an experienced runner, are you not? Tell me; do you remember the color of their eyes as you turned your back on their misery?"Fane becomes lost in his mind as memories of the past, both ancient and new, surface from a deeply rooted guilt that has plagued him for centuries. A guilt from clouded eyes and indecision.
Relationships: Fen'Harel | Solas/Male Lavellan, Lavellan & Solas, Male Lavellan/Solas
Kudos: 3





	A Dragon's Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I freaking word vomited all over the place again. I really should write the next chapter of my main story, but every time I try and I just think of things way down the road, then they lead to things like this monstrosity!  
> Fane is..complicated. It's hard to kind of lay out what exactly goes on with him because his mind is just that divided. Honestly, he wasn't even supposed to be a dragon when I first started writing. So, you can see how my mind just takes something and flips it over like a pancake. Hell, he was supposed to hate Solas, but now I have them in a romantic relationship! I don't get my head sometimes, but I have no regrets. Self indulgence, everyone. Treat yo self.

Fane’s opinion of elves, both ancient and modern, was..narrow, to be fair. He did not hold them in high regards. The Dalish were nothing to him but a group he had been _forced_ to grow up among, unknowingly or not. They were arrogant, infuriatingly proud of history they knew nothing about, and hypocritical, claiming the other races looked down upon _them_ , even though they spewed the same drivel to humans. Fane still reeled with the fact that he had actively sought to integrate himself among those within the clan, opting to have his face tattooed with inked shackles and latching onto the broken language that, as a dragon, had made him seethe with rage. He had _wanted_ to belong so badly. He had _wanted_ to _communicate_ with more than irritated growls and pointed glares. However, as many things went with the Dalish, his actions only bred fear and _disgust_. Though, he supposed that was how it had been when he was a dragon, too. However, the ancients had been a bit more..’tactful’ in why they avoided him. 

Most of the Elvehn had given him a wide berth out of fear and disgust of what he _was,_ not for what he could potentially do. They saw him as the world did now, a savage beast who needed to either be collared, or if not that, _culled_. He still felt the shattering of his heart when he thought of _how_ many of his kin had been enslaved to serve as mere trophies, their minds irrevocably shattered with magic to tame them. He remembered many of the higher elves claiming his kin as their familiars _;_ _slaves_ had been a more appropriate term, in his mind. Those power mongers were not satisfied collaring their own kin, so they had decided to shackle his instead. The memory of finding dragons barely holding onto their nature, as magic painfully warped their minds, continued to nearly send his own fractured mind into a state of frenzy. He had been fortunate, fortunate to be a _coward._ Fane had opted to stay reclusive for his own safety, as well as peace of mind. He had claimed the crest of an icy mountain as his domain, and only took to the skies when he needed food, pointedly avoiding Arlathan and other surrounding settlements. He had _run,_ instead of actively trying to free his kin. He had chosen _self preservation_ , instead of selflessness. And he had _communicated_ as much on the off chance he discovered one of his kin, the pain of impending madness clouding over their once brilliant colored eyes as they pleaded with his own golden emerald ones. And what had he done? What had he done as two toned eyes screamed for mercy, for _freedom_? What he always did; _run_. He left his kin to suffer, to warp, to _change_ unnaturally, and he had been _fine_ with that. All the power of nature, and the emotions that embodied it, and he had chosen _inaction_. And for what? Solitude? Isolation? Fear? Cowardice? Or had he been unknowingly aware that one day, he, too, would succumb to insanity, just as the rest of his kin did? Fane no longer knew the answers to those questions. He supposed he _had_ delved into madness, the memories of a life long gone and a new, equally as traumatic one beginning to coalesce into one, but that wasn’t the half of it; not by a long shot. Fane’s mind had been shattered by the very same magic that warped his kin; the magic he sought to _avoid_. All because he had _chosen_ action when it was far too late. He had learned the aspects of _respect_ and _trust_ far too late. He had finally _communicated_ with someone who had no reason to listen far too late. He had made a _vow_..far too late. And now? Now, he was paying for those late decisions. Paying with his body, soul, and slowly corrupting mind. And would he change that? No. Not anymore. It was what he deserved. It was a price that matched the crime. He may now seek to atone for his indecision, but atonement would never come, even if he freed his kin from their madness. His crime was a crime that was etched within time, and time was an unchangeable occurrence. He may be able to shape his future, but he could never undo his past, he could never undo his mistakes. As such, Fane felt that while he was of the dragon blood, he had no right to claim he _was_ a dragon, even as he still acted as one did. 

He was a coward.

A pretender.

A deserter. 

An outcast. 

He was Fane Lavellan; a dragon sentenced to an eternal prison in the body of the very race that destroyed his kin. It was poetic, if he really thought about it, and it was _justified_ . His punishment was _justified_. The form he had taken may have been brought upon him because of a sliver of a lingering desire he had, but he saw it as another aspect. It was a blessing and a curse. It was a sanctuary and a prison. It was a desire and a fear. It was a punishment and a reward. All in all, his elven form was a double edged sword; one he now wielded with ferocity that he should have harnessed long ago. A sword that would break world bounding shackles. A sword that would sever the barrier between the natural and the imaginable. A sword that would..

“Vhenan?”, a familiar, welcome voice sounded within his nostalgic mind, gently cracking its pathway. 

Fane’s golden emerald eyes blinked slowly a few times as he looked up from his spot seated on the floor, his gaze easily landing upon the concerned expression of the man who had bloomed the taboo of desire within his draconic heart. 

“Solas.”, Fane responded bluntly before letting the back of his head carefully thump against the stonewall of the rotunda, emerald gaze shifting back into his thoughts with a quiet haze before he could register the deepening frown on Solas’s face. 

Fane had forgotten where he was seated for a moment, his thoughts having wrested control over his awareness. He had originally come to the rotunda to ask Solas about something, but the elven man had been absent at the time. So, Fane had opted to wait since he had nothing else pressing to take care of that afternoon. He had been perfectly content as he waited for his lover, but soon his thoughts had begun to spiral whenever Fane had started observing the murals on the walls; the style having made him feel nostalgic and..guilty. Why guilty? Well, for one, certain aspects of the murals reminded him of when he had fought back in Arlathan. A lot of the depictions of his exploits as Inquisitor more or less mirrored what he and Solas had toiled through. Death, mass destuction, genocide, momentary reprieves, poilitical machinations, unearthed secrets..it shadowed it all. Honestly, the only one that held a semblance of levity rather than straight catastrophe was the whole debacle that was the Winter Palace, and the mural did far more justice to the seriousness of that event than his memory did. Fane had _practically_ tried to hide behind the plush curtains the entire time, and he also tried to jump off the balcony until Josephine caught him, and had Cullen and Cassandra wrangle him back from the railing. Suffice it to say, it was an eventful night that had surprisingly cleansed his mind for a moment. Well, if the disapproving frown Solas had given him from actively trying to murder himself hadn’t made him feel like a kicked puppy, then the night was good. Pretty good. Oddly good. But, he was getting off track as to why the murals made him feel guilt; their mirrored depictions were only one reason. 

Emerald eyes sluggishly rose to look upwards at one of the murals he was currently sitting under, gaze fixing themselves upon small touches that many would miss if they didn’t understand how the elven style of artwork worked. The one Fane was currently sitting under had been what sent his mind into its spiral. It was the sixth mural along the cylindrical wall; the fresco that depicted his time at Adamant. It would be obvious to anyone who had been with him during that massacre as to why it had triggered his mind to blacken. It hadn’t been the hopeless, and pointless fighting of the Wardens that had unnerved him back then. It hadn’t been quite literally walking within the Fade _physically_ ; that had not even phased him, much to everyone, but Solas’s, surprise. No, it had been that..that _demon_ ; the Nightmare that had broadcasted all of his companions’ fears out into the open, had broadcasted _his_ fears. Fane’s mind swam with all the piercing barbs and soul delving statements of the Nightmare, even though the physical journey into the Fade was now months ago. 

“ _Ah, Inquisitor. Are you_ **_running_ ** _from something? No? Your rushed gait tells me that you_ **_are_ ** _. Then again, you are an_ **_experienced_ ** _runner, are you not? Tell me; do you remember the_ **_color_ ** _of their eyes as you turned your back on their misery?”,_ the Nightmare’s mocking tone rang within his ears, making them twitch uncomfortably despite it merely being a memory.

Fane felt a violent shiver run down his spine, subconsciously bringing his knees up to his chest to rest his elbows upon them as he threaded his gloved hands into snowy white hair. When the Nightmare had said those words to him, Fane had practically froze in the middle of the Fade, so stunned by the accuracy that he hadn’t been able to continue walking. He faintly remembered Varric and Hawke trying to rally him to press on, but Fane had blacked out almost immediately, the sickly green hues of the Fade having melted into various different colors of blue, red, gold, purple, and yellow as the spirits within the realm began to latch onto his thoughts and memories to warp them into what the Nightmare had zoned in on. It was then that Fane had made a grievous mistake that had quite literally sent him into a terrifying spiral; he had _responded_ to the Nightmare’s taunting. 

“ _Shut up. You know nothing. I was trying to survive. I was trying to protect myself. I’m going to..to_ **_atone_ ** _. I’ll fix it..fix it..”_ , he remembered muttering out, recalling that his body had begun to shake with pure terror. 

“ _A mirror cannot be fixed once it is_ **_shattered_ ** _into dust. But, you know all about that, don’t you, Inquisitor? Of course you do. After all,_ **_you_ ** _were the one to sunder the mirror that had been their minds with your selfishness._ **_You_ ** _brought about their demise._ **_You_ ** _were just like_ **_them_ ** _.”,_ the Nightmare had latched onto his rising fear almost instantly, its taunts having grown more ruthless. 

_That_ had been the nail in his metaphorical coffin. The Nightmare had pinpointed every little insecurity and fear that Fane had thought he had deeply buried within his soul as if it were a white cloud among a blackened sky. However, the implication that it had been _him_ who led his kin to insanity had literally driven him into a violent frenzy within the Fade. Truthfully, that was where his memories of the ordeal became incredibly fuzzy. He remembered shouting, the cracking of magical stone as a great deal of force had split them with ease, the sound of his mind cracking into an age old frenzy that his mind still hadn’t been able to recollect. He remembered the smell of his blood, the fizzling scent of magic as his scarred skin had begun to burn from the potent energy of the Fade and his mark, and the essence of wisps and shades as each materialized and then dispersed almost instantly. And then..nothing. Nothing except the labored sound of his breathing as his mind slowly, but surely had begun to reconnect to the realm around him, and the feeling of a firm, but gentle embrace as it sought to keep him fixed to one spot. It hadn’t been until later, after they escaped and he noticed that most of his companions were avoiding him, that Fane had asked Solas what he had done and who had been holding him so _desperately_ , as if he had been about to disappear. The elven mage had had such a look of utter grief behind the small smile he had given Fane, that he hadn’t needed any more information; immediately realizing that he had _frenzied_ , a frenzy that he had only ever gone into _once_ before. The last time Fane had blacked out so terribly, so _deeply_ was when he had been a _dragon_ ; Elgar’nan having shattered his mind with the same magic that had warped his kin. It was also the frenzy that ultimately led to his ‘death’, so to speak, so he knew Solas’s reaction in the Fade had been based upon that heartbreaking memory, the mage having thrown all restraint and normally veiled emotion out the window to try to anchor him. Honestly, Fane still wasn’t sure how he had managed to reconnect his sanity, but what mattered now was that he had. He was also thankful that he hadn’t hurt anyone other than himself; the scent of blood from the ordeal having been from where he had smashed into stone with his fists and feet. Such wounds had immediately been treated by Solas, who had practically snapped at anyone who tried to treat him themselves. He remembered being slightly taken aback from the mage’s demeanor at the time, but the shock had immediately dissolved whenever Fane had seen the look of unguarded anguish within his elf’s stormy eyes. After all, he had not been the only one to have their fears aired out like dirty laundry, but Fane believed it hadn’t been just that that had hurt Solas so deeply. No, it had been witnessing the extent of his insanity once more; the utter recklessness that he had descended into. It had also, more than likely, brought up traumatic memories for Solas. While Fane still didn’t remember what exactly had happened to bring about his death, Solas had informed him of minor tidbits of the state of his mind when the magic had finally drilled through. Suffice it to say, it had not been..good on him or Solas. Not at all. Especially considering the mage would only discuss it if Fane really persisted, and even then, Solas would obviously omit specific events to protect them both. Even without the full knowledge of that dark time, the Nightmare had still weeded it out of him like it was child’s play, and the taunting words that had jarred him into a frenzy still haunted him months later. So much so, that Fane barely felt the delicate touch of Solas’s hand to his cheek as his eyes slowly began to refocus on the present once more, the colors within the rotunda beginning to show a muted vibrancy. 

“Fane. Where are you right now?”, Solas asked him gently, the mage having crouched down to his level on his knees.

Fane slowly let his head come back down from where it was still gazing up at the mural, hazy golden emerald meeting deeply concerned stormy blue. Where..was he? He was in..a room? Right? A rounded room with frescoes painted in a nostalgic style. 

“..Fade..ngh..no, uh..”, he muttered out, his voice deep with disuse, pulling a hand from his hair to lazily motion with his finger in the shape of a circle, “Uh..round. Rotunda.”, he amended, his mind feeling foggy as it pulled between memories and the present. 

Fane’s vision was still mildly unfocused, but he saw a small smile grace Solas’s lips as the elven man nodded at him gently. He felt his chest squeeze lightly at the sight of that smile as more nostalgia bloomed within his mind, slowly easing it back into reality a bit more. He adored that smile..

“Good. Very good.”, Solas praised him softly, the elf shifting closer to carefully nudge Fane’s bent legs apart to slot himself between them before tenderly cupping his pale cheeks; Fane leaned into the touch almost immediately, “What colors do you see?”, the mage asked him another question gently with that same small smile. 

Gold faintly shone within emerald as Fane’s eyes slowly scanned the room around them, faintly feeling Solas watching his action carefully with a tender gaze. What colors..? He saw..brown and tan as his gaze landed on the unpainted borders of the walls. He saw the faint flickering of orange and red from the lit torches around the entire room as his gaze gently took in each sconce. He saw the greys, blacks, and whites of shadows as those same torches casted light into other areas which needed illumination more, such as the upper railways which were a deeper brown than the tan wall below. He saw a faint blue glow from the artifact that rested on the desk in the center of the room, as well as the yellowish glow of the candles directly next to it. He did not see any green. Well, there was the small potted plant near the doorway, but it wasn’t the right shade of green that made him think of the Fade..

“Walls..are brown, except for the murals..”, he started slowly, his mind still feeling heavy as he tried to process each color into its respective word, “Um..torches are..orange and..red. Red.”, he continued, his gaze landing on each object once more to better discern his thoughts, “Shard is..blue and grey. Candle is yellow and white.”, he finished a bit more coherently, letting out a tired sigh afterwards. 

“Excellent, vhenan. Keep focusing on where you are.”, Solas instructed him slowly, Fane faintly feeling the soothing strokes of thumbs from where the mage’s hands were still cupping his face, “What is the floor made of?”, Solas asked him next, keeping himself fixed in one spot until Fane was more stable. 

Fane felt his snowy brows furrow slightly at the question, but they slowly eased upwards again as zeroed in on the cool, hard surface under him. The floor was stone; immutable, solid stone. Same as the mountains around them. Same as the fortress in which they called home. Same as the _earth_ as it followed its _natural order_. 

“Stone.”, he responded almost immediately, his vision becoming more focused with the concept of solidity. 

“Yes. What is stone?”, Solas asked easily, his smile growing slightly at the clearing of emerald eyes. 

“Solid.”, he responded again just as quickly, feeling his body go lax with a heavy, shuddering sigh as the world slammed into him and his mind, “Stone is shifting, but solid. Immutable, but sculptable. Anchored, grounded, fixed, rooted, settled.. ”, he rambled out as he let his head fall forward to land on Solas’s shoulder, absently nuzzling into the cotton lightly, “Just as I am.. Just as I am..”, he murmured out with a tired voice before burrowing into Solas’s shoulder more, tentatively moving his arms to finally wrap around the elf between his legs, “Solas..”

Fane felt Solas’s arms immediately come up to return his embrace, the warmth and feel grounding him even further. 

“I am here, my dragon. I am here..”, Solas whispered to him soothingly, beginning to stroke his hair tenderly with a few fingers, “Breathe for me. Breathe.”, the elven mage continued to soothe his trembling mind with soft words. 

Fane took a deep, shuddering breath before exhaling it slowly, the feeling of being anchored increasing as he repeated the motion once more. He felt Solas’s fingers being replaced by the mage’s whole hand as they pushed his hair back from his face, massaging his scalp lightly afterwards. He practically melted at the feeling, letting out a quiet groan in relief as his eyes slipped shut pleasantly. 

“Yes, just like that. Keep breathing, vhenan. Keep focusing.”, Solas whispered to him once more, Fane feeling the elven man’s hand come to tenderly cup his pale, freckled cheek as he let out a quiet growl, “Shh, Fane. Take your time. Come back to me when you are ready.”

Several minutes, or perhaps hours he felt, passed as Fane continued to bring himself back from the edge, nearly slipping over the side a few times before Solas would delicately coax him back with the same process. Each time it was repeated, Fane’s mind would become stronger and stronger before it finally stabilized, his emerald gaze shining with amber gold once more. He knew what this was now. This was the dance the two of them would do every time Fane’s mind would slip past a point that he himself couldn’t see. He had such issues of having memories of two lives, that separating the two was nigh impossible at times. Fane’s relapse about the events at Adamant, as well as the recollections of what happened centuries ago, was just a single example of the extent his mind could spiral. Thankfully, Solas had found him before the cracking edges of his mind could blacken too darkly. With a quiet sigh, Fane delicately leaned forward to nudge Solas’s cheek to issue that he was sound once more. Solas immediately responded with a soft nudge of his own, stroking under one of his emerald eyes with a thumb. Yes, he was okay. He would be okay. Eventually. Inevitably. Maybe. Fane hummed with contentment as he turned his head a bit to lay a light kiss into the palm of Solas’s hand.

“I see that we are back. Hello, vhenan.”, Solas murmured to him softly, gaze tender with gentle concern swimming within stormy blue.

Fane let out a tired sigh as he nuzzled Solas’s hand gently before resting his cheek within it again, feeling Solas take to the indication easily. 

“Hey.”, he responded gruffly, carefully pulling Solas closer, the two of them having shifted their position at one point so that the elven man was practically seated in his lap as Fane’s own legs were stretched out, “Shit..”, he cursed out tiredly, letting his head lift from Solas’s palm to let it carefully knock against the stone wall with a light thud.

It never failed. Any time he had one of these episodes, he would be left utterly exhausted. He supposed his mind literally fighting for purchase would do that, but still, it left him feeling like shit. He felt Solas carefully lean in a bit more to rest against him, the mage idly brushing a few strands of errant, short hair from his temples. The feeling of warmth against his chest had Fane letting out a deep sigh, stifling a yawn before it could burst forth from his lungs. Tired golden emerald eyes slowly shifted to glance downwards to meet Solas’s calming blue as the elven man watched him, waiting patiently to see if Fane needed anything more. 

“ _He always has to help me. He shouldn’t have to suffer this. This is_ **_my_ ** _punishment, not his. He has more than enough on his plate without me adding to it. I’m a coward, so I deserve a coward’s sentence. I don’t deserve to be coddled, to be..loved._ ”, he thought with crushing guilt, resolutely keeping his face impassive as he continued to keep Solas’s calming gaze.

Fane watched as something seemed to shift within the deep blue of Solas’s eyes, the hue steadily ebbing with a lighter hue before the grey undertones delicately shaded them naturally. He furrowed his snowy brows in concentration, watching the gentle dance of color as each one embodied a specific emotion. Was Solas..? Emerald eyes slowly widened in realization, Solas breaking into a fond smile, presumably at the sight of such understanding.

“No..I don’t. I don’t..”, he whispered out brokenly in response to Solas’s message, the wave of emotions hitting him becoming too much, “I deserve to suffer for a million lifetimes for what I did, for what I _didn’t_ do. I let _desire_ cloud my nature. It was the greatest sin a dragon could ever commit..”, he choked out, his throat steadily beginning to tighten, “I desired so much to remain alone, to remain _untouched_ that I turned by back from my kin. And even when I did choose to fight, I was too proud. I felt as if _I_ were the only one that could be considered a true dragon. I..I thought the others were..were.. _nothing_ compared to me.. I..I had thought..that they _deserved_ to be shattered for being weak..”, he finished with a choked sob, retracting his arms from Solas’s back to rub the palms of his hands into his eyes to stave off oncoming tears. 

And there was the truth of it. The simple, brutal, and bitter truth. He _had_ been too proud. There were two sides to the coin that had been his choice. One side was that Fane had _wished_ to stay by the elf who had captured his heart, his respect, his _trust_ . The other side was the much darker side of a glimmering gold coin; the side that was shaded in shadow from poor craftsmanship. On that shadowed side, Fane had _desired_ ; the ultimate taboo for any dragon who wished to remain orderly, to remain _natural_ . To desire meant to cast aside what made a dragon a part of nature. Dragons had been a constant, primal force that allowed the symbiotic order of the world to thrive, and to veer from that path fueled with petty desire? That was _sacrilege_ . That was _denial_ of one’s draconic nature. After all, a flower did not desire to be a tree, fire did not desire to be water. These aspects simply _were_ . They were natural, ordered, _fixed_ . They did not deny their structure for something more. That had been _precisely_ what Fane had done; he denied his nature for petty power, for worthless _pride_ . And why? To prove he was better? To show he was a ‘true’ dragon? To squash those who seeked to shackle him and break his mind? No. He had done it for _power_ ; a power that had corrupted his kin, and shortly after, himself. Once, he had turned his back, then he had sought power, _desired_ it, and now, he was paying the price for throwing off the balance; the weight too heavy on one side with the brunt of his mistakes, doomed to fail if he did not serve his punishment _naturally_. No amount of soothing words or gentle caresses would make that untrue. It couldn’t.. It couldn’t..

“I’m a _coward_ , don’t you see? I _ran_ from them all! And then I..what? Turned back around and thought I could make it right?! _I_ killed them! Me! No one else!”, he sobbed out, trying to keep his voice low so as not to attract attention from upstairs, “I _strayed_ from my nature, and I deserve nothing more than suffering! I don’t deserve this..this kindness, this _love_! Not when I denied my kin the same!”, he spat out, smashing his palms into his eyes harder to keep the tears at bay. 

That’s right! He deserved nothing but pain and heartache! No happiness, no calming words, no support! Only suffering and the switch! He should be flogged and flayed until his skin fell from his body in ribbons! He should have his eyes gouged over and over and over until the vibrant colors shifted to muted grey! He should have his mind poked, prodded, and broke until he cried tears of blood from the sheer pain! He should be _abandoned!_ He was _not_ a dragon; he was a running coward with petty pride as his flimsy weapon! This body he bore would be the final bone as it splintered with the weight of memories that were too many, and too painful! He..he..! 

“Fane.”, Solas’s firm, but soft voice pierced through his thoughts with alarming ease, feeling cool hands wrap around his wrists loosely to try and pry them away from his face.

Fane resisted the gentle tug several times, but eventually relented with a shaky sigh, sheepishly meeting Solas’s eye that continued to convey the same message to him. He felt his face start to bunch up at the sight, but denied to squeeze his eyes shut. Tears started to slip free from their confines as Fane continued to unknowingly relay his own message through his own brightened emerald eyes, the gold cast nearly becoming submerged within the glistening green. He slowly shook his head at the delicate flashing of deep indigo within Solas’s own.

“Don’t. You don’t understand. You _don’t._ ”, Fane growled out, quickly grabbing a hold of Solas’s hands to give them a harsh squeeze, the mage barely flinching at the action, “I _ran_ from them. I watched as magic wracked their beings, and saw the color drain from their eyes. And you know what? I didn’t care. I didn’t _care_ ! All I cared about was _power_ ! Dragons _cannot_ desire more power than they already possess!”, he snarled out more brokenly, the tears beginning to stream without his consent, “I’m selfish, a fool, a glutton, a power monger, a _controller_ .. I am _not_ a dragon.. I am _nothing_..”, he sobbed out finally, his body beginning to shake with his pent up emotions. 

Fane practically crumbled into himself as he tried to wipe his hot tears away from his pale face, coughing around a harsh sob as the pressure in his chest increased with all the guilt, pain, and anger he felt. He didn’t deserve to cry. He didn’t deserve to feel _anything_ except agony and shame. Crying led to the insinuation that he was remorseful, which he was, painfully so, but no amount of tears would ever amount to the river of tears that his kin had shed. So, crying _now_ held no value, no _point_ . The time for tears had been centuries ago, when it all began. Not now. Not while in the arms of someone who so foolishly thought he was _deserving_ of anything beyond punishment. Not when he had more than his kin ever had. Not when..when he had _power_ , power that he no longer desired to harness. Fane felt his hold on Solas’s hands loosen as the strength in his body ebbed away, leaving him weightless and sobbing before he felt a surprisingly crushing force of arms looping around his torso. Teary eyes blinked at the contact, faintly detecting the buzz of his scarred mortal body before they connected with Solas, who was latched onto him like he was about to fly away. The utter look of anguish that flashed across Solas’s face had Fane’s mind halting from his shamed filled thoughts for a moment. That look..he had seen that look before. He had seen it many times. Many, many times. It had been the look Solas always gave him when the elven man himself was in agonizing pain, when he could.. _feel_ Fane’s guilt and shame as if they were his own. Wait..Solas could..feel _his_ pain? 

“ _How can he..?”,_ Fane thought with a slightly puzzled expression, the tears halting into thin streams before they intensified with a dawning realization, “You understand.. You were..able to speak to me with your eyes..”, he mumbled out with wide eyes, shakily reaching down to cup Solas’s face, the tears increasing even further at the sight of the mage fighting back his own, “You fucking idiot! Do you understand how much emotion is seated in a dragon’s gaze?! Your kind can’t bear that much strain! This is _my_ pain, _my_ anguish! Not yours!”, he snarled out, harshly pulling the sleeves of his tunic down to carefully wipe away a few errant tears from Solas’s cheeks, “You already have enough on your plate! Quit trying to shoulder more! Blighted, fucking elf! No wonder you were so damn quiet! Ugh, I should have fucking known!”, he continued cursing out the man in his arms, wiping the tears away as they came.

Why hadn’t he clued in sooner?! He had seen the message in Solas’s eyes before he started rambling! He had _responded_ to it! He had told the damn idiot time and time again that trying to communicate with him through eyes was risky, but yet, Solas continued to do it! Fane continued to growl as he wiped away tears, his own anguish and sorrow forgotten in favor of mitigating Solas’s foolishness. However, the elven god merely smiled at him softly, face twitching at times with the weight of his intensified emotions. Fane’s snowy brow furrowed as he harshly pinched one of Solas’s ears with his free hand, the mage hissing out in discomfort before giving him a warning, but weak glare. 

“Why the _fuck_ are you smiling?”, he asked with accusation, practically fretting over the man in his arms now. 

He watched as Solas’s glare weakened into a soft gaze, the blue shifting back to its deep tone before the elven man let out a chuckle. 

“I am smiling because you are proving my point without even knowing.”, Solas finally responded, smile growing more fond.

Fane furrowed his snowy brows, shaking his head a bit as a sign of confusion. What was Solas rambling on about now? What point? What had been the point of having him snap like a mad dog? As his expression became more puzzled, Fane watched as Solas merely shook his head with a quiet sigh before the mage smiled once again.

“Vhenan, for all your power of detecting emotions in others, you are very unaware of your own.”, Solas told him with a fond glimmer in his blue eyes, “And I do not mean that as an insult. Far from it, in fact. Did you not notice what you did just now? You threw aside your own troubles to lessen mine. And why? I will tell you; because you _care,_ deeply, about everyone except yourself. You are _so_ sure that you deserve punishment, but punishment for what? You see your inaction, your ‘cowardice’ as the crime. You see your desires, your ‘lust’ as the sin. You see the power, the ‘pride’ as the sword that severed their heads. However, do you not realize that what you did, what you _chose_ at the beginning, was merely you staying true to your nature? You were reclusive so as to keep the balance and not be warped. You turned from maddened eyes because they were _wrong_ to your being. You were the very last of your breed. You _knew_ you could not allow yourself to be broken. Otherwise, the entire order of your race would have been extinct. You were acting as a _dragon_ , Fane. I believe this inherent guilt is stemmed partly from those choices, but mainly from what you are _now;_ a mortal. Your very existence is a combination of two utterly opposite beings, thus your mind fights itself against what your draconic soul _knows_ is right and what your mortal soul _feels_ is wrong. And there is _nothing_ wrong about that. No matter your form, no matter your past, present, or future, you _are_ a dragon. There should be no guilt in that now, just as there was no guilt in it back then.”, Solas finished tenderly, cupping his face gently to stroke along his dampened cheekbones, absently following the path of his vallaslin.

Fane stared into Solas’s eyes like a halla caught in a hunter’s torch light, sleeves falling back down as his hands went limp. 

“ _There should be no guilt..”_ , he reiterated Solas’s final statement in his head, “ _There should be no guilt..in what I am. No, not what I am..what I did. I..I was..”_ , he thought next before the world, along with all of his forgotten emotions, slammed into his mind and body like a stone slab, “I..I am a dragon.. I..I acted..as a dragon..”, he uttered shakily, feeling hot tears flow with renewed vigor as he continued to stare into the blue orbs before them, the color softening the longer he gazed. 

He watched through a watery screen as Solas nodded at him once before the elven mage pulled him into a firm embrace, guiding Fane’s head into his shoulder. Fane went with the motion easily, locking his jaw as harsh sobs began to wrack his core.

“Back then, you did not have the experience of what it was like to be mortal. You merely acted as what you were. You could detect emotions from your kin and other living beings, but you did not understand your own. You had no room for complicated ones such as guilt. You knew only what nature embodied. Angry as the sea during a violent storm, calm as the clear blue sky on a sunny day, and proud as the snowy mountains in the distance. That is what you _knew_ . Now, you know _more_ , you _feel_ more. Guilt, sorrow, vengeance, hope, regret, joy, compassion..you feel it all, and your memories only intensify these newfound emotions, twisting them into such potent versions that they leave you confused and unnerved. That is what it means to be _mortal,_ not draconic. It is a battle of identity, and though I wish I could fight it for you, vhenan, I cannot..”, Solas whispered to him sadly, fingers coming up to slowly stroke though his hair. 

Fane dug his hands into Solas’s back as he sobbed, biting down on his bottom lip to try and stifle his voice, still not wanting to draw any attention to his distress. The reason Solas’s words were hitting so hard was because Fane knew the man was _right_ . Every little detail was the truth behind his guilt, his pain, his remorse. It was not just a battle; it was a _war_ , a war where he was ill equipped to fight. All the memories of him turning away, boldly flaunting, and stoically denying were not borne of a lust for power or a sense of outward pride. It was..what he was. A dragon. A being of nature. A constant aspect of the world that had to remain fixed lest the world fall to ruin. A mountain stood tall and proud, only buckling under intense primal pressure. A tree swayed unabashed in the breeze, rain or shine. The sea ebbed and flowed like an elegant dancer, unconcerned if its movements were deemed scandalous. Fane _was_ nature incarnate; powerful, but controlled. Punishing, but merciful. Order, but chaos. The only time he had _ever_ felt the tickling of something non-draconic was when he had grown close to Solas, and even that had been natural; Fane marvelling at the spirit of the elven man for which he wished to hate, and Solas patiently waiting for him to open his wings with a broad mind that the dragon had never seen an elf possess. It had reminded Fane of the sky; the ever shifting, but immutable sky, vast and boundless, but contained under the laws of nature. So, what he had done, what he _didn’t_ do was just that; nature, _his_ nature. He had sought to preserve as the permafrost preserved the sleeping ground, but shifted to action with fury as the sea did when it was angry. He had..done nothing wrong. To a mortal, yes. But to a dragon? No. No..

Fane felt an odd feeling rise within his heaving chest at his thoughts before he heard himself let out an agonizing, sorrowful cry, the sound foreign to his pointed ears as he let it out without thinking. He was..howling? Yes, howling with all of the century old pain his draconic form had been unable to express. All of the unknown guilt and anguish finally able to find proper release. He felt Solas’s embrace merely tighten as the stroking of his hair turned into firm pets as he howled unabashedly, too far gone in his pain to care about anyone hearing any longer. 

“ _Yes, my heart. Let it out. Do not hold it back any longer. You_ ** _will_** _free your kin, but you must forgive yourself. You must_ ** _embrace_** _that the past is the past, even if it hurts to look back. And if it becomes too much? Then I will be here to shoulder that ache, just as you shoulder mine. You are not alone.. Not anymore.._ _Not anymore_..”, Solas whispered to him in elvish, holding him without a care as to what anyone would think.

As tears fell as if they were rivers from eyes and his chest heaved as molten magma as it threatened to burst forth, Fane could only latch onto two words; the voice above him having uttered them with tenderness, but also from one that seemed to growl with deep sorrow from beyond the barriers of time. Those words would forever be a sense of strength for him, even if he continued to spiral time and time again, even if he continued to feel guilt and doubt for what he committed in the past, and those words were simple, but held much more. 

_Forgive yourself_. 

That is what the voices uttered. Would he be able to forgive himself? Only time would tell amid a war of two identities fighting for the territory that was his mind. Would they relent and split the land down the middle, or would they raze the fields until neither remained? Fane felt, wrapped within a solid embrace, that either outcome would be enough if it meant an _end_ ; an end to all the guilt, the doubt, and the sinful natures. 

An end with only two, not three; both seeking forgiveness for a past soaked in blood as their respective natures cried out for absolution.


End file.
